


Next Day Gone

by rivlee



Series: The Open Road [1]
Category: HBO War, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Road Trips, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7171265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hoosier Smith gets laid off and decides to take to the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts), [uniformly (dustystars)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=uniformly+%28dustystars%29), [ama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/gifts).



> A note on the relationship tags: It's a ball full of unrequited love in this one. No one is quite together yet. However, since both of these relationships are mentioned, I thought it better to tag so people can avoid any pairings they don't enjoy. 
> 
> For the Team Leckie Fest. 
> 
> Massive thanks to Kay for reading through this mess and forever being encouraging. To Nat and Alex, my writing buddies in this fest, thank you for joining me in this and for all your support. Nat, thank you for listening to me ramble on forever about this fic. Alex, I'm so happy you're in this fandom with us!
> 
> To everyone on tumblr who offered their support as I tried to finish this, thank you!
> 
> And a thank you to you, the reader, for giving this fic a chance.

“I think I’m about to get fired.”

“Sucks to be you, Hoosier.”

Hoosier Smith laughed as he stared at the grey ceiling tile above his cubicle. There’d been a water stain there for the past five years that looked vaguely like Winston Churchill. Apparently it had more staying power than Hoosier did for a law firm currently facing a plague of downsizing. Patterson, Patterson, and Corrigan was being taken over by Haldane & Morgan to become Haldane, Morgan, and Corrigan. Neither one of the Pattersons were making it out, along with most of the junior staff and general workforce at his firm. 

Hoosier was just waiting to get that final call into the office. 

“I’m supposed to get a nice severance package,” he said.

Bob Leckie sighed from the other end of the phone. “You’re going to make yourself into a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Oh, tell me more, Dr. Leckie. How do these things work? Oh wait, I have an example for you: how about telling my future spouse-to-be most marriages end in divorce at the engagement party.”

Hoosier counted the silence as a clear victory.

“I fucking hate you sometimes, Will,” Leckie said.

“But you love me when I haul my ass down to Jersey to help you move into your parents’ basement.” That had only ended in curses and pizza, rather than tears. “How’s that working out?” 

“It’s cramped,” Leckie said. Something shifted in the background. “At least it’s quiet enough down here for me to get some writing done.”

“And how’s that going?” 

Hoosier could see Leckie’s shrug perfectly in his mind. The slight haunch of those shoulders and the crooked grin that always came with it. 

“The problem with trying to write the history of the Brooklyn Dodgers is that’s it’s already been written a couple hundred times over,” Leckie said.

“Then why do it?” Hoosier asked. 

“Because I think I can do it better,” Leckie said, certain and arrogant and magnificent all at once.

Fuck, Hoosier missed that cocky sonofabitch. 

There was a knock on his cubicle and Hoosier turned around to see his supervisor, Mark Stone, standing there with eyes already sad and resigned.

“Bobert? I’m going to have to call you back,” Hoosier said. He hung up before Leckie could get one last quip out. 

“Patterson the Elder wants to see you, Bill,” Stone said. 

“I was wondering when my number was up,” Hoosier said. “Guess we know.”

“You and me both,” Stone said.

Hoosier held his hand out to Stone and gave him a firm handshake. He’d always been a nice guy to work with and a decent supervisor. Stone was made for better things though; the man wasn’t the soulless corporate worker-bee type. Hoosier just hoped they’d both find better jobs after this one. 

“See you on the other side, man,” Hoosier said.

“Any recommendation or reference you need, you put me down,” Stone said. He patted Hoosier’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure to get you some of the good banker’s boxes for your desk stuff.”

“I appreciate that, man,” Hoosier said. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He was going to face this with his head held high.

**********

The sun was bright as it shone down on Hoosier’s head. He stood and sweated and cursed as he clutched his box full of his former desk’s possessions. They’d let him go just in time to face the lunchtime rush of workers and tourists in the middle of Downtown Crossing.

“Fucking typical,” Hoosier muttered. While he’d never disliked his direct supervisors, he’d always felt Patterson Senior and Junior were overpompous jackasses. At least those two were also getting the boot. 

Across the street from his former law firm vendors were hawking fried dough and hot nuts from their food carts as a man dressed like Ben Franklin led a group of cell phone clutching tourists through Downtown Crossing to the supposed spot where the American Revolution started.

Hoosier took a breath and waited to see if someone would get hit while playing traffic chicken with Boston drivers in the middle of the goddamned Financial District as they tried to fit thirty people on the tiny plot of single a traffic island. He was almost disappointed when everyone made it out safe.

He shifted the box in his hands and threw his messenger bag over his shoulder. He took one step to cross the street and almost got run over by one of the passing duck boat tours.

“I hate this fucking city,” he muttered. It wasn’t completely true. He came to Boston with stars in his eyes, realized he’d could only afford to live far south of the city in Weymouth, and had spent the past eight years having a love-hate relationship with tourist season. 

It was a week before Memorial Day, the city was already sweltering, and now Hoosier was without a job facing a summer of high tourist tides while he tried to shop his resume around to all the other law firms or temp offices in the city. It didn’t seem worth it. It wasn’t worth it. He’d done his time in Boston. 

He’d been dreaming about dropping everything and running away to Jersey since he’d helped Bob move. Maybe not Jersey though; they were too many uncertain variables there. Maybe Chicago. Hell, maybe Mobile. Fuck, it’d been almost two years since he’d seen Sid. He couldn’t remember the last time he even spoke to Gibson.

Hoosier shook his head and dug his T-pass out of his pocket. He had a long ride home on the Red Line and plenty of time to think. At least the train cars were usually air conditioned. 

Honestly, he was a little glad he’d been one of the ones picked for the corporate slaughter. He never would’ve quit otherwise, and he’d given up on trying to find another job after so many non-interviews and no call-backs and zero in roads in a city so built on connections.

Maybe it was time to see if he could go home again. 

If nothing else, the rent would be cheaper. 

Or Buffalo. He hadn’t seen Runner since Easter. Buffalo was practically home too.

And the rent would still be cheaper.


	2. Two

Hoosier needed some vague idea of an itinerary, so he was using his last few days of paid WiFi access to plan a route. He never quite trusted the GPS system on his phone since it once guided him into a ditch by the riverside rather than the Pizza Hut he was looking for, and roadside maps weren’t exactly something he could just pick up anywhere now. He had to make the decision of where he was going next before he packed up his last few boxes and took to the road. He’d spent the past two weeks going back and forth over his next destination. He’d even resorted to a Pros and Cons lists for fuck’s sake and he was still nowhere closer to making a damn decision. 

It made sense to just go down the seaboard and force himself on Leckie’s hospitality, but if he took a different turn he could head southwest and see Runner. It all depended on who he wanted to be stuck in the car with longest. 

Hoosier took a sip of his Yoo-hoo, his current fine dining drink of choice, and stared at the blinking cursor on Google Maps. It didn’t take more than a second of thinking for him to type in a destination that took him to Indiana via Buffalo. Out of all the guys he wanted to see again, Runner would be the least likely to complain about lack of legroom and the most likely to stay awake and aware long enough to drive through the night. And Runner had never met a roadside attraction he didn’t like. He wasn’t the type to mock the World’s Largest Ball of Yarn unlike some people whose name rhymed with Cobert Beckie. 

“Better embrace the smell of dairy farms,” he said as he toasted his nearly empty apartment.

*********

Hoosier couldn’t remember the last time he was in eastern New York for a significant period of time; not clearly at least. He just remembered being _very_ drunk and something about dancing naked under the full moon in a pumpkin patch. That was the absolute last time he’d ever let himself pick a guy up during a Ghost Tour.

At least New York City didn’t have a ton of bad memories. He’d spent a few hazy nights in the city during various Fleet Weeks while still in the Corps. He’d been to Niagara Falls for Leckie and Vera’s “classier than a Vegas Drive-Thru” wedding that ended up not happening. And he’d been to Buffalo so many damn times to visit Runner and his family it was practically a second home. The Conleys always made him feel welcome, inviting him every single year to come visit for the holidays and trying to fatten him up. He really needed to buy the entire family some deluxe fruit basket for putting up with him for so many years. 

Hoosier made sure to call Runner first so he could secure the vacation time because unlike some of their other friends, Hoosier actually had some fucking manners. Runner was almost always game for an adventure, but he also had a hell of a work ethic. Runner damn well knew some of the other employees at his father’s auto dealership grumbled about him only having a job because he was family. Never mind that Runner usually pulled fifty to sixty hour weeks as a mechanic, rather than a salesman or in a cushy office job, working the shitty shifts and the holidays everybody wanted off. 

Runner probably needed this vacation more than any of them. Hoosier worried about the kid stroking out from stress before he hit thirty-five. 

Still it was nice to know that he could call Conley up out of the blue and ask him to take a long-ass vacation and all he got in reply was a _you better buy me some Funyuns_.

By the time Hoosier pulled into Runner’s driveway, he had a well-stocked backseat of junk food essentials and bottled water. He had the cheesiest of Arena Rock Anthems playlist ready to start. He had a trunk full of shit he actually cared about while the rest was making its way via UPS, Fed Ex, and the Post Office to the family farm in Indiana. He had a full tank of gas and a plan. 

They were going to Chicago because there was unfinished fucking business there, and Hoosier had decided somewhere passing over the Hudson River hours back that he was going to start unfucking all sorts of shit. And up first? He was going to take care of his brothers. In his own way so they’d never see his hand behind it, but he was going to get shit done. 

It was a mission. Hoosier had always been apathetic about mission objectives, but he’d also always prided himself on finishing what he’d started. Hoosier knew he had his own journey and personal goals to sort out on this road trip to wherever. He’d always been a fan of side quests though, and there were definitely more than a handful to accomplish among the tatters of his former squad. 

People grew apart as the years rolled on. It was inevitable. Social media and modern technology made it easier to stay in touch, but half the time that was only scratching the surface. Everyone had shit to do in their lives and didn’t always have the time or the energy or the headspace for a heart-to-heart. And it was always easier to put it off; to tell yourself you’d catch them next time or that you’d really put a belated birthday card in the mail to go with the skin-of-the-teeth Happy Birthday posting on Facebook. 

But even with all the social media and the 24/7 access, people got left behind; people got forgotten. Missed opportunities became deep regrets. None of them were dead yet though. They were all still living and breathing and _here_ and Hoosier? He had the time now. He had the attention span. He was going to fix some shit. 

So they were going to Chicago. They were going there to see Chuckler and finally let something culminate that’d been brewing since they were back in Basic. They were going to take a big goddamn leap, even if Hoosier had to be the one pushing them all over the edge. 

And then Hoosier was going to go to New Jersey, either on his own or with two passengers. Because Hoosier damn well knew Chuckler and Runner weren’t the only ones with unfinished business and too much sexual tension to sort out. Hoosier could admit putting all the space right now between himself and Jersey was the act of a running scared coward. He needed to build himself up, figure his own shit out, before he pulled up into Leckie’s driveway and poured his fucking heart out. 

Possible unrequited love sucked all the balls in all the world. 

Hoosier took a deep breath as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. He took the keys from the ignition and stared up at the cheery front lawn of the Conley homestead in all its suburban glory. A Buffalo Bills flag waved at him from the porch. All the flower pots were perfectly arranged with the manicured lawn. If he didn’t know the people inside, he probably would’ve hated them on principle for their picture perfect house. He did know them though, and inside meant a place to eat some damn good food and relax before hitting the road again. 

The porch light flickered on and Hoosier knew that was his sign to get out of the car before he was forcibly dragged out. 

He laughed and smiled to himself. God, he fucking loved this family. Hopefully, after all this, he’d still be just as welcomed. It was a risk he was willing to take. Runner deserved to be happy. Chuckler deserved it too. They deserved to be happy _together_. They just needed to know it was a real thing, it could happen now, if they let it.

Hoosier looked up to see the screen door open. Mama Conley stood there with her hands on her hips and a shake of her head. Runner stood behind her waving a wooden spoon. Clementine, their massive golden retriever, was prancing around their feet. 

Hoosier got out of the car, stretched, and then braced himself for impact.

**********

Mama Conley had them spend the night, and Hoosier didn’t even know why he was surprised by that. Still, sleeping curled up on the top bunk in the guest bedroom while Runner took the bottom was far from the worst place he’d ever bedded down.

They’d been sent off with a huge breakfast, a thorough car inspection by Papa Conley, an hours long detour to a super store to reevaluate their food options, and a coin toss for who took the first driving shift. Runner won, which meant Hoosier couldn’t exactly spring their itinerary on him. Thank god for Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and their strategic places between New York and Illinois. 

“We headed to the farm?” Runner asked as he unlocked the doors. 

Hoosier just shrugged as he slid into the car. 

“Go west, young man,” Runner declared as he dropped into the driver’s seat. He had to pull the seat almost all the way forward and gave Hoosier the finger after he was done.

“I didn’t say shit,” Hoosier said.

“I know what that smirk means,” Runner said. He squirmed in settled back in the seat. “We could take the ultra-scenic route and go through Michigan?”

Hoosier didn’t even bother to give Runner a look.

“Fucking snob,” Runner said. He held up his GPS. “Are you going to go all anti-technology if I plug this in?”

“Nah, Runner, I’ll just throw in the trash the first stop we make.” He grabbed it from Runner’s hands and lobbed it into the back seat. “You’ve made this drive before. You’ve got a vague idea. We’re not trying to make it in under some kind of deadline. Just drive. Enjoy the road. It’s the journey and not the destination or some bullshit. Follow Route 66.”

“We’re never going near Route 66.”

“Stop pissing on the American Dream, Conley,” Hoosier said. 

Runner raised one very sarcastic eyebrow as he pulled out of the driveway. “So, no timeline and you’re hung up on the American Dream? I got a place for us.”

“And are you going to share with the class?” Hoosier asked.

“Nope,” Runner said. 

He reached for the radio, but Hoosier slapped his hand away. “My car, my music. I’ve made you a mixed cd.”

“You going to ask me to the prom next?”

“My dance card’s already full, Runner,” Hoosier said as he put in the first of a multi-cd mix. 

_Life is a Highway_ filled the car even as Runner started cursing Hoosier out.

Hoosier grinned and rested his head against the window. So far, so good.

**********

Route 20 Ice Cream had a 1950s replica gas station museum, along with like, a magical train caboose seating car, and some of the best damn ice cream Hoosier ever had the good fortune to taste. If Hoosier hadn’t already fallen in love with a completely different contrary bastard, he would’ve fallen in love with Runner at that very moment in that very place.

“We’ll hit Taffy’s on the way back out,” Runner said. 

“And what is a Taffy’s?” Hoosier asked.

“Damn good hot dogs and fresh cut fries,” Runner said. “I figure food for the road.”

“Lunch after dessert,” Hoosier said. He kicked Runner’s ankle. “Rebel.”

“Never wait for ice cream,” Runner said. 

Hoosier nodded in agreement. It was one of those stupid, simple things they’d learn to really appreciate years ago. Dessert, and ice cream, and all that rare shit you never knew you were going to miss that damn much until you were stuck in a Humvee in the middle of the devil’s arm pit fighting a war no one wanted or needed. Fucking ice cream, man. It was a gift. 

“And after Taffy’s?” Hoosier asked. 

Runner finished his waffle cone before he answered. “How do you feel about kazoos?” he asked. 

To be perfectly honest, Hoosier was pretty indifferent about kazoos. He was up for anything though. 

They left Orchard Park, New York with overly full stomachs and TLC’s _Baby-Baby-Baby_ blaring as they sang off-key at the top of their lungs and scared off a flock of birds.


	3. Three

“ _That_ is a pink elephant,” Runner said as they passed a winery. They didn’t stop. After a disastrous winery visit years ago in Georgia, they’d all sworn them off.

It was a hell of a pink elephant though. 

“I’m pretty sure we can call that damn thing a heffalump,” Hoosier said. 

They still weren’t out of New York yet. Hoosier wasn’t worried about the time and they’d be in Pennsylvania within the hour. Hoosier had his phone out and was Googling possible stops. He was serious when he told Runner this wasn’t about trying to get anywhere fast. The drive to Indiana could be made in a day, easy, but Hoosier would’ve been happy just staying on the road for at least a week. 

“Polka Hall of Fame?” he asked.

“That’s a hell no,” Runner said. He shuddered. “Too many bad family reunion memories.”

“I’ll cross that out for Ohio then,” Hoosier said.

“Anything you want to see in Erie?” Runner asked. “Is the Liberfrog calling you home?”

“What the fuck is a Liberfrog?” Hoosier asked. He did an image search and laughed. “We got to get a picture of that for Bobert.”

Runner smiled. “Still got a crush there, Hoosier?”

“We got a long drive ahead of us, Runner. You want to go there, buddy?” Hoosier asked. 

Runner just leaned forward and turned up the volume, filling the car with Blendia Carlisle and silencing any further line of question. They _had_ to sing-a-long to _Heaven is a Place on Earth_. Hoosier was pretty damn sure it was one of those unspoken laws.

**********

After Hoosier snapped a picture of the statuary abomination known as Liberfrog and convinced Runner they didn’t have the time or the swimsuits for a water park diversion, they got back on the road. Hoosier took over driving duties as they passed a hell of a lot of pretty lakeside country. They stopped a few times to snap pictures of covered bridges or lighthouses or whatever caught their attention and had a place to pull over. They agreed not to stop for food until they reached Cleveland.

After a detour to check out the longest covered bridge in the United States, and the shortest covered bridge in the world naturally following that original detour, they got back on track. 

“Dude, Flintstone House,” Runner said as he scrolled on his phone. “I vote we stop there.”

Hoosier laughed. “This is why I love you, Runner. You don’t need that highbrow culture to have a good time.”

“Flintstone House,” Runner repeated. 

“Pass,” Hoosier said. 

Runner glared at him. “This is all because I refused to go to the Polka Hall of Fame, isn’t it?”

Hoosier shrugged. “We still got time before we get there.”

“No,” Runner said. 

He settled back in his seat, bare feet up on the dash, and leaned against the window. 

“Are you going to get pissed if I start asking questions about your future?” Runner asked. 

“I didn’t realize you’d turned into my Great Aunt Margie,” Hoosier said. He honked his horn at the asswipe in front of them that kept tapping the brakes for no damn good reason. Hoosier wasn’t even riding the dude’s ass. “You and your space cushion can fuck off,” he said as he switched lanes. 

Runner did his job by giving the asshole the finger as they passed. 

“We’re going to get shot one day,” Runner said. “Well, more than we’ve already been shot at.” He sat back again, the glitter of the nail polish on his toes catching in the afternoon light, and turned back to Hoosier. “Seriously, though, what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to become a manicurist or pedicurist or whatever the fuck so I can fix that mess on your feet,” Hoosier said.

“Hey, Isla did this. She’s only seven,” Runner said.

“Her hand-eye coordination needs some work,” Hoosier said.

“Never have children,” Runner said.

“Don’t plan on it,” Hoosier promised. And it was true. He could entertain kids for a bit, as long as he knew he could give them back to their owners after an hour or two. 

“So no kids,” Runner said.

He didn’t delve further into that topic and he didn’t have to; they’d all shared their thoughts on it years ago, in the middle of a cold-ass desert night, waiting to see if they were going to get shot or exploded or just generally killed. Runner, Chuckler, and Sid were all pro-kids. Hoosier was a definite no and Leckie and Gibson were both undecided. He wondered sometimes if their opinions had finally changed now that they’d left the military behind. 

“Are you going to stay in Indiana?” Runner asked. 

“Not of I can help it,” Hoosier said. “It’s my family’s home, not mine.”

“You don’t have that Cornhusker pride, I get it,” Runner said.

“Well, I wouldn’t since that’s Nebraska, jackass.”

Runner shrugged. “Midwest, same difference.”

“Fucking New Yorkers,” Hoosier muttered as he switched lanes again. 

“Stop avoiding the question. We’ve got time until Cleveland and you know I can keep talking,” Runner said.

“You’re not my shrink,” Hoosier said.

“No, but I am one of your best friends and I’m just trying to prepare you for the interrogation your family’s going to lay down on you. You know it’s going to start with, _We need you on the farm, Bill_ and end with, _Well, do you have anything better to do, William?_.”

Damn Runner could perfectly imitate both of Hoosier’s parents. “That’s creepy,” he told him.

Runner laughed. “You love my hidden talents.”

“Creepy,” Hoosier repeated. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and finally considered Runner’s questions. “I’ve got a damn good severance package and some pretty nice savings. You know me, Wilbur, my apartment was always just a place to sleep. I’ve never been extravagant.”

“Except for coffee,” Runner said.

“Don’t besmirch the nectar of the gods,” Hoosier said. He loved his coffee. It was the one thing that never failed to disappoint him in life. 

_Wonderwall_ started to play and Hoosier and Runner exchanged a look before they both busted out laughing. Runner quickly switched to the next track before Hoosier actually rear-ended someone.

_Listen to Your Heart_ started just as Hoosier finally calmed down enough to focus on the road.

“What were you thinking?” Runner asked with a shake of his head. “Irresponsible.”

“I didn’t know who was going to be in the car at the time,” Hoosier defend himself. “You know the look Leckie gets on his face when he hears that song. I _had_ to do it.”

Runner nodded. “And there’s my other question. Why me? Why not Bob?”

Hoosier sucked some air between his teeth. “Don’t pull the punches there, do you?”

“Still?” Runner asked. He didn’t have to ask anything more.

Hoosier shrugged. “If the engagement didn’t stop it, what makes you think the break-up would? Look, I still love and respect Vera. She’s an actual queen and was always far too good for Bobert.”

“Agreed,” Runner said. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact I’ve been in love with that asshole since he had a newly shaved head and the worst attitude of any recruit to ever enter Parris Island,” Hoosier said. 

Runner gave him a long look. “Take the next exit,” he said.

“Why?” Hoosier asked. “We’re thirty minutes from Cleveland’s city limits.”

“I’ve got to pee,” Runner said.

“No you don’t,” Hoosier argued.

“Just take the next exit,” Runner said. “We’re going to have a talk and you can’t do it while driving.”

“Fucking fine,” Hoosier said as he crossed three lanes of traffic.

*********

They pulled into some fast food restaurant outside of Plainville. Hoosier hopped out of the car to stretch and Runner hopped out of the car to head towards the restaurant.

“Where are you going?” Hoosier asked.

“I actually have to pee now,” Runner said. 

“We are seriously thirty fucking minutes from Cleveland.”

“I’m never pissing in a bottle again, Hoosier!” Runner said, completely ignoring the looks of the people around them.

Hoosier smiled and waved as Runner dashed towards to the restaurant. He laughed to himself as a mother shuffled her child away. Scaring the youth of Midwest America? Personal achievement unlocked. 

He pulled out his phone to text Leckie as much, along with the slew of pictures he’d taken of Runner and Liberfrog, and everything they’d done in the past four hours alone. 

_Are you high?_

Ah, there was the Bobert Hoosier knew and adored.

**just seeing the great things America has 2 offer**

_That’s a frog dressed up as the Statue of Liberty. I feel I must repeat the question. Are you high?_

**high on life bobert high on life**

_Every time you don’t use proper punctuation, the Baby Jesus weeps. ___

__**fuck you Robert** _ _

__“What the hell are you laughing at?” Runner asked. He had a drink tray in one hand and a bag of food in the other._ _

__“Still can’t use a place’s bathroom without buying something after?” Hoosier asked._ _

__“Some of us have manners,” Runner said. He held up the drink tray. “I don’t have to share these milkshakes with you, you know.”_ _

__“Hey, Kelis is on the road trip mix. We should play her next.”_ _

__“The phone?” Runner asked._ _

__Hoosier shrugged._ _

__“Leckie,”” Runner said as he set the drink tray down on the car’s hood. He held his hand out. “Let me see.”_ _

__Hoosier handed over the phone and took a milkshake. Chocolate and decent enough taste and consistency wise._ _

__Runner sighed as he handed Hoosier’s phone back. “I honestly don’t get you two. An over decade’s long flirtation and it’s like he doesn’t even realize it.”_ _

__“Pot. Kettle,” Hoosier said._ _

__“Not quite,” Runner said. He took his own milkshake and leaned against the car. “I did a stupid thing at the engagement party.”_ _

__“We all did,” Hoosier said._ _

__“No,” Runner said. He straightened up and stared Hoosier in the eyes. “I did a really stupid thing at the engagement party.”_ _

__“Fuck,” Hoosier said. He slid across the hood of the car and stopped next to Runner. “You didn’t?”_ _

__Runner nodded. “I mean—Chuckler and I were—he was in a _tux_ , Bill. And he just smelled so damn good. And there was—there was fucking moonlight and I was just buzzed enough to no longer give a fuck. And it’s Lew, he’s just—he just _goes_ with shit. So I told him I wanted to kiss him and he said okay. And then I told him I wanted to fuck him and just gave me that—that fucking laugh. You know the one.”_ _

__The sex laugh. It’d had even made Hoosier’s pants tight on occasion and he could honestly say he’d never had the urge to fuck Lew Juergens._ _

__“Jesus, Runner,” Hoosier said. He slid off the car and pulled Runner close for a hug._ _

__Runner buried his head in Hoosier’s shoulder and took a deep, shuddery breath. “In the morning he had that early flight back to Chicago and I had the drive back to Buffalo and he just hugged like it was normal. Told me he’d see me next time. Kissed my fucking cheek before he left. He called once he landed and it was like, nothing fucking happened. It felt like a slap in the face.”_ _

__“It’s been seven months,” Hoosier said._ _

__“I know how fucking long it’s been, Bill,” Runner said, voice muffled by Hoosier’s shirt. “So, surprise, that’s how I found out I’m definitely not the casual sex type.”_ _

__Hoosier just hugged Runner closer. He looked at the milkshake in his other hand and laughed._ _

__“Thanks, Bill,” Runner said._ _

__“Hey, Wilbur, does your milkshake bring all the boys to the yard?” he asked._ _

__Runner shoved him away. “Get in the fucking car.”_ _

__Runner had a smile on his face again though, so Hoosier counted it as a small win. He was going to make a call though, once they stopped for the night, and Runner took a shower. Because Chuckler wasn’t the fuck and ditch type so something else had to be going on and if it wasn’t? Well, fuck, Hoosier was going to have to verbally, possibly physically, beat the shit out of one his best friends._ _

__“We have to stop at the Superman houses in Cleveland,” Runner said. “Chuckler would never forgive us if we passed them by and didn’t take pictures for him.”_ _

__Hoosier made a face. “You’re too good.”_ _

__“Apparently not good enough,” Runner said._ _

__“Don’t start that shit,” Hoosier said. “You’re better than enough. We’ll figure this shit out if I have to march to Chicago myself and drag him out by his toenails.”_ _

__Runner nodded and curled up in his seat again. “Why couldn’t I fall in love with you?”_ _

__“You don’t like blonds,” Hoosier said._ _

__Runner laughed as Hoosier put the car in drive. Rick Astley’s _Never Going to Give You Up_ started._ _

__“Fuck,” Runner said, choking on his milkshake. “I’ve just been Rickrolled by life.”_ _

__“You’re welcome,” Hoosier said as he pulled out of the parking lot._ _


	4. Four

They didn’t spend as much time in Cleveland as they should have for a city with so much to see and do. Hoosier didn’t want to stop there for the night. And outside of driving by the former homes of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster and taking pictures of the Superman shield plaque and Action Comics fence respectively, Runner didn’t want to do anything else in the city. They grabbed some barbeque for a very late second lunch and then got back on the road.

“Where are you planning on stopping for the night?” Runner asked. He’d taken over driving duties again and was tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with Bouncing Souls’ _Fight to Live_.

“I was thinking Fremont. That’s about halfway to Rolling Prairie,” Hoosier said. He wasn’t quite ready to go home again, but it’s not like he really _could_ keep Runner away from Buffalo for an indefinite period. Not without Mama Conley calling him up and yelling at him for holding her baby boy hostage. 

“How about Sandusky?” Runner asked.

“I am not going to an amusement park,” Hoosier said. He fucking hated Cedar Point _and_ Great Wolf Rapids. They were both the place of many a Smith family vacation destination. 

“Not an amusement park,” Runner said. “A _ghostly_ thrill park.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Hoosier said. He knew when his fate was sealed though and Runner had that look in his eye. “Okay.”

“Great,” Runner said. “Because I made reservations at the Econo Lodge near there before we left Buffalo. I know how your minds work with stopping near the half-way point.”

Hoosier couldn’t say anything in the face of that overly pleased grin. “What’s the exit?” he asked instead.

“Look at for US-250,” Runner said. 

“I’m going to regret this,” Hoosier repeated. 

Runner patted his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to let you run into the bouncy castle first.”

If Hoosier wasn’t driving, or if he honestly didn’t care about avoiding death by automobile accident, he would’ve taken a moment to slam Runner’s forehead into the steering wheel. Instead he switched out the road trip cd and put in his revenge.

“Oh fuck you,” Runner said as the Spice Girls _Greatest Hits_ started.

“Can’t hear you,” Hoosier said as he turned up the volume even higher for _Wannabe_.

**********

Hoosier wasn’t a hotel snob like Robert Leckie, so he didn’t mind stay in an Econo Lodge just on principle. Even Hoosier had to admit that the place was nicer than he expected.

“I don’t even feel like our shit is going to get stolen,” Runner said.

Hoosier nodded in agreement. He still slipped the _Do Not Disturb_ sign on the door just because he could admit he didn’t want to be fucking bothered. 

“So are we going to do your ghostly fun house tonight or make a day of it tomorrow?” he asked. 

Runner honestly looked offended. “Who visits a ghostly thrill manor during the day?”

“Just remember check out time is 11:30 tomorrow morning,” Hoosier said. 

Runner set the alarm clock by the side of the bed. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Hoosier said. He used he feet to kick off the comforter and then curled up under the sheets. “Nap now. Wake me up if you find a body under the bed.”  
“Save it for the manor,” Runner said.

**********

Hoosier once went through the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World as a kid when his grandparents splurged and spoiled all the grandkids with an expensive vacation. He’d hated every second of that ride as a nine-year-old. He once went through a haunted house train ride at even younger age during some local county fair. He’d spent the entire ride crouched down at the bottom of a train car and it’d left a distinct taste in his mouth about anything with the words “haunted,” “ghostly,” or “thrill” that didn’t come with a tour through town led by a local historian.

He’d gladly do a graveyard walk with someone who knew their shit. People popping out of dark corners to give him a heart attack? Hoosier had a specific reaction that many years in Marines had only made worse. 

“Try not to punch any poor, innocent haunted manor workers this time,” Runner said.

“No promises,” Hoosier said.

Runner covered the $22 entry fee per person that got them full access to the entire park. There was a bouncy house, a roller rink, a theater of some kind, the manor of course, and—dear god— the Wizard Journey’s mini-golf course.

“No,” Hoosier said.

“Oh, but an absolute yes,” Runner said. 

Hoosier also had a distinct reaction to mini-golf courses.

**********

Hoosier did not punch any innocent ghostly thrill manor haunted house workers. However, he almost punched Runner when they got to the mini-golf course.

The black-light mini-golf course with actual, legit, godforsaken neon colored trees. 

“No,” Hoosier said. 

“Come on, Hoos, we have to rescue the Wizard of Wimblebain,” Runner said as he tugged Hoosier forward. 

“I don’t have to do shit,” Hoosier said. 

Runner sighed and pulled out his phone. He texted someone and not a second later Hoosier’s phone rang.

“Hello?” he asked, almost scared it would be Mama. Conley.

“Why did I just get a text from Runner saying you won’t play with him?” Leckie asked. “Do I need to come out there and have a Bad Touch talk with you two?”

Hoosier was glad he didn’t have a mini-golf club in his hand right then because he definitely would’ve broken someone or something. 

“I’m hanging up now,” Hoosier said. He turned to glare at Runner. “You need to think about your words sometimes before you actually use them. Say them out loud to see if they sound right. In fact, read the text you just sent to Leckie out loud and come back to me once its set in.”

“What?” Runner asked. “I just told him you wouldn’t play with me.”

Hoosier shook his head and texted Leckie.

**OK prof you need to call runner & handle this one im out**

_I’m going to pretend that was English._

**dont b a classist fuck**

Hoosier smiled as Runner’s phone rang and proceeded to the first of the nine holes in the game. He had a feeling this entire course was designed by someone who dropped acid while listening to a mix containing Jefferson Airplane, Jimi Hendrix, and Pink Floyd all at once. That was the only explanation he was willing to accept.

“That is not what I meant!” Runner yelled into his phone.

Hoosier smiled and took his first swing. Sunk it in one.

Leckie stayed on Runner’s phone through the entire game, though he gave Hoosier a warning at the ninth hole.

“Try not to go all Sergio Garcia on the course if you miss this one,” Leckie said.

“No one gets your sports references,” Hoosier yelled as he gave Runner’s phone the finger.

“Well, that’s a different type of birdie,” Runner said. 

In the end the rescue of Wizard of Wimblebain was pretty damn anti-climactic but Runner nearly face planting into a neon painted papier-mâché column and knocking it over was worth the price of admission.

**********

Runner was in the shower washing off his mini-golf losing shame when Hoosier decided it was time to make the phone call he’d been planning since their heart-to-heart in a fast food restaurant parking lot.

He took a deep breath and then finally tapped the grinning photo of the man he was about to tear a new asshole. 

“What the hell were you thinking,” Hoosier said instead of hello.

“Whatever it is—I didn’t do it,” Chuckler responded. 

“Oh, I’m damn well sure you did,” Hoosier said.

“Wait—where are you?” Chuckler asked.

“Somewhere in Ohio where dreams and pride go to die on a black-light mini-golf course,” Hoosier said. 

“And who are you with?”

“Who do you think, asshole?”

Chuckler went uncharacteristically quiet. “Did he say anything about me?”

“Did he—did he,” Hoosier stuttered. “Why the fuck do you think I’m calling you, jackass? You just fuck him and leave? What the hell, Lew?”

“Wait—WHAT?”

“What?”

“I did what?” Chuckler asked. “No. Runner’s the one who just acted like it was nothing. I just—fuck.”

“What?” Hoosier asked again.

“Bill,” Chuckler said, voice gone solemn. “It’s been a shitty seven months. He basically went radio silence on me. I talk to him and there’s like this wall between us.”

“Because you fucked and ran,” Hoosier said. 

“No,” Chuckler said. “I had a flight to catch. I waited as long as I could. And god, Bill, I was so happy because he finally—and then when I landed and called he just—it was like it was nothing. And I didn’t know what to _say_ , but I didn’t want to upset anything. I’ll take what I can get it’s…it’s _him_ or nothing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ and all the Saints preserve me,” Hoosier muttered. He could feel the headache forming right behind his left eye. 

Hoosier heard the water shut off and knew he had to talk fast before Runner emerged.

“Lew, get your shit together,” Hoosier said. “We’ll be in Chicago, probably within in the week. It depends how long my parents want us to stay around. You prepare the most epic ‘Sincerely, My Bad’ speech and you prepare to get down on your goddamn knees and grovel. I thought I was just going to help you two pull your head out of your asses, but there’s only so much I can do with this mess. Are you with me, Juergens?”

“I am,” Chuckler said. It almost sounded like the bastard had saluted him. 

If ever there was a time to pull rank, apparently it was now. Hoosier still didn’t know how he’d managed to rise above all of them.

“Good. I’ll call you later,” Hoosier said as he hung up the phone before Lew could say anything else.

What a fucking mess. 

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Runner said as he opened the door, steam billowing out.

“You leave any hot water for the rest of the hotel?” Hoosier asked.

“Nope,” Runner said as he took a running leap onto his bed. He grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. “Have you ever noticed, wherever you are, no matter the time, somehow, someway, a _Law & Order_ or an _NCIS_ episode is on tv?”

“I can honestly say that I haven’t,” Hoosier said as he dug out the plastic bag that held his toiletries. He’d packed the fancy ass bag for his shit Leckie had given him years ago in storage. Hoosier never was one for the frou-frou life.

“I left you some towels,” Runner said.

“Thanks,” Hoosier said. When he walked into the bathroom he found one, single, solitary, tiny, washcloth.

“I’m going to fucking murder you in your sleep,” he yelled through the bathroom door.

“Love you too, honeybunch!” Runner yelled back.

**********

They somehow made check-out time, had a greasy breakfast from a roadside diner they would both definitely regret, and cruised along I-90 in all its tollbooth glory while unashamedly car dancing to _Bye, Bye, Bye_.

Runner had his phone out as he scanned for places to stop near Toledo. It’d only been a full day of travel, but somehow it felt like a week. They still weren’t in any kind of hurry and Hoosier was happy to indulge Runner to a reasonable extent.

“I know you called Chuckler last night,” Runner said. 

Hoosier nearly slammed into a guardrail.

“The bathroom walls are thin,” Runner said. He looked up from his phone. “Thanks, bro.”

“Jackass,” Hoosier said.

“So, Chicago?” Runner asked.

Hoosier nodded. “It was always the plan,” he admitted. “I just didn’t realize how soap opera you two got without adult supervision.”

“Says the man who wound up naked in a pumpkin patch,” Runner said.

“Seriously what was in that pumpkin beer?” Hoosier asked. 

“The world may never know,” Runner said.

He looked relaxed as he skipped to the next track. They’d traded in the road mix for Runner’s iPod that morning. Right now they switched from some Rascal Flatts to some Fleetwood Mac. 

_Silver Springs_ started playing and Hoosier almost ran into a guardrail again.

“If either of us starts crying we tell no one,” he said.

“Agreed,” Runner said as he turned the volume up and started to sing with Steve Nicks.

*********

They were nearly an hour outside of the Indiana state border when Runner made a declaration over Bastille’s _Skulls_.

“Dude, we’re stopping outside Fremont. We can stand in three states at once. How often does that happen?” he asked. 

Hoosier tried not to roll his eyes. He did not succeed. 

“What?” Runner asked. 

“Any time there’s a Tri-State region, that’s when you can stand in three states at once. Let’s not forget our friends the Four Corners.”

Runner shook his head. “Why must you hate joy?” He pelted Hoosier with a balled-up straw wrapper. “And you sounded like Professor Leckie there.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Hoosier said. He took a hand off the wheel and slapped Runner on the back of his head.

Runner managed to twist away from him _and_ poke Hoosier in the side at the same time, the squirrely little fucker. It felt good to laugh though, truly carefree after the heaviness that had been around since yesterday afternoon. Sure, they almost swerved and hit a truck carrying hay, but no one got hurt in the end. 

Another hour later Hoosier took the exit to Freemont while Runner snoozed beside him.

“The things I do for you,” he said as he drove to the gravel road where the marker stood.

“I’ll buy you lunch,” Runner murmured. 

“It’s a good thing for you I’m cheap,” Hoosier said. “Better wipe that drool off your face first though.”

Runner sat up, wiped his hand over his face, and then leaned over and patted Hoosier’s cheek. “There you go.”

“Fucker,” Hoosier said.


	5. Five

Even though Runner had offered to pay for lunch, Hoosier knew exactly where they were going to stop. The major spectacle that was Das Dutchman Essenhaus had to be seen to be believed. Hoosier had been craving a piece of their shoofly pie ever since they’d crossed the state border. He took the back way to the inn just so they could enter through the covered bridge.

“The theme continues,” Runner said as they passed under. His eyes widened as they got closer to the various shops and attractions. “Holy shit.”

“Just wait until you see the restaurant,” Hoosier said.

He’d never taken one of his friends here. It was a little over an hour and half away from home and a family trip he’d made monthly when he still lived with his parents. It felt right to bring Runner here. He’d have to bring the others too one day; they were a different kind of family. For so many years he had kept everyone in his life in their little compartments. Now, with literally anything life had to offer in front of him, there didn’t seem a reason to keep those rigid borders. His boys, the ones who had lived through hell with him, knew him better than anyone else now. It’s why he couldn’t stay in Indiana when he’d come back from his last tour. It didn’t feel right; _he_ didn’t feel right, like an imposter in his own life. 

He’d changed in between graduating high school and joining the Marines. He had changed even more after he got out and worked for a law firm and completed his Bachelor’s through night classes. He’d changed even since getting laid off and driving out of Massachusetts to steal Runner away for a very merry adventure. There were things that would always be true about him, be the very heart, soul, and core of Bill Smith, but he wasn’t Bill or Billy or the Kid anymore like his family always called him. _Hoosier_ was more his name than the one he was born with and while Hoosier could stay in Rolling Prairie for a week or two, he couldn’t settle down there. It was his past, not his future, and even though his road trip with Runner was nearing its end, Hoosier’s own personal journey was far from over. There were so many more miles to cover. 

“What is this magical land?” Runner asked, pulling Hoosier out of his thoughts.

Hoosier parked the car and gestured for Runner to get out. “Let’s eat.”

“You’re not about to lead me to house made of candy just to fatten me up and then feed me to your primordial gods, right?” Runner asked.

Hoosier slapped Runner’s forehead and then pointed at the door. “Get out of the damn car.”

The restaurant was a huge, loud, lively place full of long tables with people sharing dishes family-style, a buffet, and smaller tables for people like Runner and Hoosier. The hostess sat them near one of the large wooden beams, tucked away in a corner far from what looked like quite the birthday party. Hoosier didn’t want to correct her about this not being a lunch date if it meant he got to hide from the tiny humans with the frosting-covered hands. 

Runner sat across from him gaping down at his placemat where the thirty plus pie choices were listed.

“Marry me,” Runner said. “The only condition is that we have to eat here once a week and on all holidays and anniversaries.”

“Okay,” Hoosier said with a laugh as he looked down at his own menu.

A part of him would always think _if only_ , because life would be so much easier—simpler—if he could fall in love with Runner or someone like him. 

“The thing is, it would be easy between us, but we’d never be happy. Easy is one thing—you also need a spark,” he said.

“And you need someone you can be a little mean to on occasion. And they’ll need to be mean right back,” Runner said. “I get it, you and Leckie, I do. You’re vicious with each other sometimes. You’re never that way with me and Lew, and Christ, it makes you both _happy_ when you get like that.”

“I can be that way with Bob,” Hoosier admitted. “Sometimes I need to be; sometimes _he_ needs to be. It’s so far from healthy, we both know that, but I do love him, even the ugly, dark parts.”

“I’d say especially so.”

Hoosier put down his menu and shook his head. “Look, I love his Lucky Irish Charm as much as the next person. I also love his quiet, contemplative side. And yeah, I love that he always takes time to think before he gives a _real_ answer to a question. I love that he can be a Grade-A Bastard, but I don’t love that one thing more than all those other parts of him.”

Runner put down his own menu, eyes even wider now. “Fuck, maybe we should’ve gone to Jersey.”

Hoosier shook his head again, a lump already forming in his throat. “It’s not time yet.”

“Will it ever be?” Runner asked.

Their waiter showed up before Hoosier could give his answer. Even if he could have, he honestly didn’t know what it would be.

**********

They had a back seat full of baked goods for his mom and Boston telling them about MaryAnn walking away as they approached South Bend. Hoosier was less than half an hour from home and he could feel the knots forming in his stomach.

“You’re not a failure,” Runner said. 

“What?” Hoosier asked, lifting his head from the window where he’d been drowsing.

“You’re not a failure because you got let go in a corporate downsizing. You weren’t meant to work in a law office anyway,” Runner said. “You’re not a failure. You did five years in the Marines and eight years in Boston. You’re thirty-one years old, Will, and you’ve got plenty of years ahead of you. This will not be the end. It’s not over because you have to move back home and fuck anyone who tries to shame you for it. You’re not a failure. I want you to know that and believe it before we coast into Rolling Prairie.”

“Or what? You’ll turn this car right back around?”

“You bet your ass I will,” Runner said with a fierce conviction. “Besides, we never visited that windmill museum. I say that’s worth a return trip.”

Hoosier waited until they were at a red light. Then he reached over and gave Runner as deep a hug as he could between the parking brake and the seat belts.

“I love you, Willlllllburrrr,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Runner said.

Hoosier could feel the love even as the person behind them started honking their horn.

**********

Kaleo’s _No Good_ blared out of their rolled down windows as they passed the ‘Welcome to Rolling Prairie’ sign.

“What’s it like growing up in a place so small you had to go a town over to attend high school?” Runner asked.

“Long and boring bus rides,” Hoosier said. 

The “center” of town, if anything so spread out could be called that, looked as run down as Hoosier remembered. He supposed that was a good thing, all things considered. The old red brick buildings hadn’t gotten any worse, and even though all the roads could use a good paving--most of them practically gravel at this point--it wasn’t because the community didn’t care. The money everyone had, that wasn’t spent on keeping their families fed and their farms running, went the help the elementary schools. Local business was pretty much the norm here, except for the Dairy Queen. 

“Will you take me western square dancing?” Runner asked as they passed the sign outside the community center. 

“Only if you buy your own boots and hat,” Hoosier said.

He’d taken over driving just outside of South Bend. There was no way Runner could navigate the wide open roads here without getting lost. 

“Holy shit, do you own those? Are you secretly a cowboy? Are there pictures?” Runner asked. “I have so many questions and need so many answers.”

“Yes, no, maybe,” Hoosier replied. “If Mama had plans to go dancing then I’ll let you tag along. If not, you’re just going to have to keep your fantasies to yourself.”

“Your mother loves me,” Runner said.

Hoosier knew that; she pinched Runner’s cheeks every single damn time she’d seen him. Hugged him like one of her own and called him just adorable. She always tugged Chuckler down for a hug and ruffled Leckie’s hair, but Runner was clearly her favorite. There was no way Hoosier wouldn’t be square dancing before the night was over.

“I’m going to take so many pictures,” Runner said. 

“I know,” Hoosier said as he finally admitted defeat.

**********

“Holy shit,” Runner said.

He’d been saying that ever since they’d driven past the gate to the Smithland Farm. The entire time up the winding dirt road to the main house had been an entire litany of holy shits as Hoosier waved to anyone who saw out working in the fields. It was almost like Runner forgot he’d been there before, but it was different seeing the farm at the end of fall as opposed to the brilliance of summer. They had lots of corn and soybeans here, then smaller plots for various types of squash and other produce. The wheat field had always been Hoosier’s favorite, but corn and soybeans brought in the most money and it was almost the start of sweet corn season.

“I can’t picture you as a farm boy,” Runner said. He laughed to himself. “Go fetch me that pitcher.”

“As you wish,” Hoosier said. He finally parked his car in between his father’s rusted old blue pick-up and his eldest baby sister’s cherry red F-150. Mama was already on the steps waving at them, her worn jeans covered in dirt and work gloves still on her hands.

“John said he saw you driving through town,” she said. “You could have called us.”

“I wanted it to be surprise,” Hoosier said as he slipped out of the car.

Runner tumbled out after him and Mama gave a screech of delight.

“Wil Conley you come over here and give me a hug,” she declared, golden curls bouncing as she jumped off the stoop. “I didn’t have a room made up. My boy is so rude.” 

“That’s our Hoosier,” Runner said as he gladly embraced Mama. 

She reached a hand out and smacked Hoosier on the top of his head. “You think you were raised in a barn.”

Everyone laughed and that was the apparent signal to drag most of the Smith family out of the house. Only two of his five sisters were there, Jeanie and Cassie. Emily and Elizabeth, the twins, were still in high school and Bethany had left the farm behind for Chicago three years ago. Jeanie was the closest to Hoosier in age though, and the one who would take over the farm, and she looked every part the proud farm girl as she pulled him down into a hug.

“Missed you, asshole,” she said.

“You too, shithead,” he said.

“The love is just pouring out,” Cassie said as she hugged both of them tight. 

“Daddy’s out with the pigs,” Cassie said. “Mama told him he can’t come home until he mucks the shit out. She wanted the farm to be all sparkling for you, thinks it could lure you back home.”

Hoosier never liked the pigs and mucking out the shit from the pig’s pen and the horse stables had always been his punishment. He was not made for this life. 

“That’s a face of a ‘Hell No’,” Cassie said. She held her hand out to Jeanie. “Give me my money. I told you he’s not moving back for good.”

Jeanie rolled her eyes and slapped ten dollars into Cassie’s hand. “And I thought we’d be more than just a storage site to him.”

“We have an entire barn just to store shit in,” Hoosier argued as his sisters tugged him into the house.

“He’s going to be like Bethany and leave us for Chicago,” Jeanie said. “All those years working as a lawyer had to corrupt him.”

“Robert’s in New Jersey though,” Cassie said. “And his engagement’s off—for good, from what I heard. You know our Billy the Kid is going to go after what he wants.”

“Jesus,” Runner said from behind Hoosier. 

Hoosier turned and gave him a pleading face as his sisters continued to tug him into the house and up the stairs. If he got to Jeanie’s room there would be no escape.

“Now girls,” Mama said, “You can’t expect Wil here to unload that car himself. Let your brother go. Torture him after he’s brought the pie inside.”

Cassie dropped his arm and glared up at him. “You didn’t say there was pie.”

“When have I had the chance to speak in the last ten minutes,” Hoosier said.

“Dude,” Runner said, voice full of fear. 

Hoosier knew he should have expected the retaliation, but he had honestly forgotten just how hard Cassie could pinch.

**********

Tim McGraw was playing through the speakers of the house stereo as everyone gathered around the set of long picnic tables outside and had dinner. Candy, a golden retriever the size of a small horse, had claimed Runner’s feet as her new favorite headrest. Hoosier had a lap full of Bazooka, the ancient corgi-mix that he’d found as a puppy right before he left for Parris Island. Everyone was laughing as they passed dishes around and shared stories and filled Hoosier in on the gossip flying around all the county farms.

And Emily and Elizabeth kept blushing and giggling every time Runner smiled in their direction. Jesus, he’d have to spend the night protecting Runner from the full force of his sisters. 

“Barrows Fields is growing pot,” John said. “They’re making a killing on it too.”

“And they’ll get a whole bunch of felonies handed down to them if they get caught,” Mama said. 

Hoosier looked to his dad who only shrugged and continued to dig into his burger. Raymond Smith always was a man of few words. A hell of a lot of smiles stood in place of them though and Hoosier knew how damn lucky he was to grow up here. 

It was a home, his old home, his family home, but not _his_ home. 

“So, what’s next?” Cassie asked.

“Chicago,” Runner said. 

Hoosier looked at him and Runner nodded. 

“Chicago,” Hoosier agreed. 

“And after that?” Jeanie asked even as she passed Cassie a twenty.

Hoosier shrugged. “Who knows.”

“He’s got all the time to decide,” his father said. “Let the boy be.”

Hoosier nodded at his father in thanks and turned back to his own food. 

Tonight, maybe tomorrow, they’d still be in Rolling Prairie. Chicago was the next stop and then? Then Hoosier had nothing to decide but which highway to go down. It was a hell of a feeling and one he enjoyed. 

Runner started humming _Life is a Highway_ and Hoosier laughed until he damn near lost his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more fics to come! The next one takes place in Chicago and should be up by the end of June.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to listen to a mix that contains all the songs mentioned in this fic, I've posted one on 8tracks [here](http://8tracks.com/rivlee/one-day-here-next-day-gone).


End file.
